Babies, engagements, promotions – oh my! It seems like everywhere I turn, someone is knocked up with offspring – gleefully blissful in their accomplishment to produce a new life, proof that their…
Here I am writing about my fears. If you follow me on Facebook then you know that yesterday was my flight back from Los Angeles CA. I’ll talk about that trip another…
First a heads up, there will be bad words in this post. If you get easily offended, hello we haven’t met! I have 3 bitches living in my head. Some people talk…
It’s taken a while to understand why I am the way I am. Maybe its childhood trauma. Maybe its adulthood drama. Maybe its celestial. As an only child who was born under…
When I was younger I became infatuated with Venice, Italy. The canals, gondolas, waterside buildings – it was just so awesome-looking. What’s not to love about it? When you’re young and impressionable,…
If you have to ask why, you won’t “get” it. Back in April I took a cross country road trip from Roselle, NJ to West Los Angeles, CA. I was met with countless confused faces.
There is an awkward moment, when my mind settles in on what my inner critic convinces it is reality. I know better but during moments of weakness, my poor mind is susceptible to abuse. I can’t help it. I do try though to not let my mind fall into that trap.
How does one determine the difference between improving on something and just plain self-sabotaging for the sake of living up to some warped self-fulfilling prophecy? I don’t get distracted easily but my butterfly is definitely there and incognito with her metamorphosis self.
I always envisioned that my version of “smashing into a tree” would be medically related. Something where I’d be inflicted with some preventable disease, as my body’s way of retaliating against my…
Not quite my use of the word battle on a post-memorial day but whatever. I took a pill at 9:3opm in an attempt to call it an early night. For me early is 11pm and well hey, it’s 11pm-ish now.
So what did I do during this 90 minute transitional coma?
Sitting at a Starbucks, my 2nd and 3rd home, I look around at all the people passing by, in their short sleeves and “Thank God it’s Spring” smile, and it hits me: finding my voice and maintaining it are two entirely separate beasts.